This elusive UK electronic producer inhabits a neon blur of contradictions: minimal and maximal, pleasure-pushing and high-concept, trap and house.

It's not every day that you hear music that sounds totally and wholly new—that is, music that you've never heard anyone make quite like this before. And in the oftentimes retro-fixated arena of modern dance music, true uniqueness can be an even rarer find. And while the enigmatic London-based producer Sophie's aggressively bright style carries elements of other producers' hallmarks—the jagged melodic textures of Glasgow's Rustie and Hudson Mohawke, the airtight syncopation found in James Blake's early work, the lollipop synths of French Touch acts like Fred Falke and Alan Braxe—his work thus far transcends mere pastiche. It's fascinatingly strange stuff, and it's fun as hell to listen to, too.

The producer is currently taking the anonymous route, but it's seemingly not out of fear or shyness; rather than offering shadowy, face-obscuring press photos, Sophie—who is assumed to be male—takes the visual opportunity to bolster his colorful tracks with fizzing shots like the one above. "The music is not about where someone grew up, or what they look like against a wall," the producer writes in an email (he declined to speak on the phone for this piece). "Therefore, you should try to use every opportunity available to say what you're trying to say, instead of saying, 'Here's my music and this is what I look like.' Nobody cares."

Based on his typed-out answers, what he's "trying to say" involves knowingly sly jokes, which, true to form, do work well with his funhouse sonics. When asked about his influences, for example, Sophie claims to draw from "shopping, mainly—things prohibited in hand luggage," and when I ask if there's any significance behind choosing the name Sophie as a moniker, the response is even more oblique: "It tastes good and it's like moisturizer."

Nevertheless, bass producer Skream hinted that Sophie's first name is Sam and that he hails from Scotland during a BBC 1 interview with the mysterious artist last month—not that you could tell from the brief, strange phone call that aired, in which Sophie spoke in a high-pitched, processed-sounding voice that resembled a mewling cat or a sick child. (When Skream asked what was wrong with his voice, Sophie's answer appropriately took the piss: "I have a bit of a cold.")

In that same interview, Sophie said that he's "not really into remixes"—a statement that carries a hint of irony, since the first sliver of buzz he caught was off of a typically abstract remix of house producer Auntie Flo's "Highlife" that made the rounds last year. This past February, London-based label Huntleys & Palmers released Sophie's debut single, "Nothing More to Say" b/w "Eeehhh"; the A-side is a pulsing, shape-shifting house cut with ululating vocals and a staccato bassline, while the hard-to-pronounce B-side was a more straightforward floor-filling electro jam.

If Sophie's debut single skirted the lines of convention, his second single, "Bipp" b/w "Elle", takes the piece of paper those lines were drawn on and sets it on fire. Released on forward-thinking UK label Numbers, who have put out similarly mindblowing singles from Rustie and Mosca over the past few years, the two tunes are unquestionably (and dazzlingly) weird. While "Elle" is all sharp edges and stilted programming, "Bipp" sets an earworm-y, unnaturally high-pitched vocal line on top of a punchy, warped synth and stray, squishy sound effects that sound like the sonic equivalent of a Willy Wonka candy-making contraptions—if said contraption was malfunctioning on the verge of total explosion.

Up next for Sophie: another two-track single on Numbers that'll see release before the end of the year—or, as the producer puts it, "making some melodies, synthesizing some sounds, thinking about words and materials, and then shaking it up and making it fizz." Sophie's somewhat unmanageable website also mentions "film music" as one of the projects he's working on, presumably in line with his sparse-to-sweet score for Dutch mixed-media duo Freudenthal/Verhagen's short film Dear Mr/Mrs. When I ask him to elaborate on what else the future may bring, his answer is somehow both satisfactory and elusive: "That's bullshit/that's coming up—you better watch out."

"If you were an alien species visiting earth, a nightclub would be a particularly culturally and sensually rich place to go to and learn about what humans are like."

Pitchfork: "Bipp" is a really evocative song title—considering the music attached to it, the title is very onomatopoeic.

Sophie: That's an interesting thought, I hadn't previously thought about it in those terms. Onomatopoeia really tries to do the same thing as synthesis. You have to break down the sound in your mouth and think about the different components that are making it up, then replace them with vowels and consonants—or, when it comes to waveforms, noise and clicks. If you're successful, you have something which takes on the sonic, sensual, and emotional character of that which you were trying to recreate. In effect, it feels like it sounds. That's one approach to naming a track—find something which feels like it sounds. It's going to be my new thing now, so thanks for that.

Artwork for the "Bipp" b/w "Elle" single:

Pitchfork: The images associated with Sophie have a melty, colorful feel, which is similar to your music, too.

S: The photos are called "Homemade Molecular Cooking." Music as molecular gastronomy is something I like to think about. It’s about getting to the molecular level of a particular sound—realizing what that sound actually is made of, and why it behaves a certain way when processed or cooked. Then, you use those molecules to build new forms, mixing and re-appropriating those raw materials—and of course, it should be bloody delicious.

Aesthetic aims should be secondary to conceptual aims, otherwise you end up with music that is driven by stylistic references rather than its conceptual or musical ideas, or actual content—I’m speaking from experience here. The music or image—the same applies to both—should be built outwardly from conceptual core to aesthetic appearance in order for the conceptual roots to be present and visible in the final product. If you’re working the other way round and trying to force the ideas or content into a pre-existing stylistic mold, then the concepts become warped and deformed.

S: Yes, I like going on my own. There's a particular club very close to me in London that seems to have completely lost control recently and is open 24/7. There's a diverse collection of people there exhibiting some diverse behavior there, so I like to go in and have a look around. A friend recently described clubs and dancing as an energy compatibility test. I sometimes think that, if you were an alien species visiting earth, a nightclub would be a particularly culturally and sensually rich place to go to and learn about what humans are like.